


life and death and love and birth

by crystaldeer



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Animal Death, Grief, Hurt & Comfort, Less Sad Than It Sounds, M/M, Makkachin Is A Lady Fight Me On That, Makkachin's life through Victor's eyes, Multi, Not Beta Read, Victor Nikiforov-centric, Viktor with a K, characters and relationships are more on the background, don't worry she lived a long life, still sad, this is mostly just about Viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9773459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystaldeer/pseuds/crystaldeer
Summary: Viktor is twelve years old when he receives a fluffy puppy in a shoebox from his aunt.“It’s a girl” she says, eyes twinkling, “our lady had some puppies and I thought you might like one. What do you think?”[...]But, the puppy is brown like hot cocoa and warm and her heart beats steady against Viktor’s hand. She smells like bread baking in the oven and eventually she opens her eyes and she is so tiny and precious and he realizes just how much he needed to be watched with eyes like these, full of unconditional love.“I love her” Viktor answers.Or; in which a life is lived. No more, no less.





	

**Author's Note:**

> life and death and love and birth, and peace and war on the planet Earth  
> is there anything that's worth more than peace and love on the planet Earth?  
> come on and sing it with me...  
> the words relate to the key...  
> if it's a pattern, if it's a pattern, then just repeat after me...
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ss7rLjGAlQE
> 
> I could write a lot about it, but right now all you need to know is that this work is dedicated to:
> 
> Biscoito a.k.a. Monsieur Biscuit
> 
> 08/10/1999 ~ 20/01/2016
> 
> Shine On, You Crazy Daschund

Viktor is twelve years old when he receives a fluffy puppy in a shoebox from his aunt.

“It’s a girl” she says, eyes twinkling, “our lady had some puppies and I thought you might like one. What do you think?”

In all honesty, he is unsure how he feels about the fact that his aunt sells dogs like one would sell apples. Viktor had said countless times, when his _mama_ would ask him if he wouldn’t like a pet, that he would rather adopt an animal at a shelter than get a designer brand full of diseases from inbreeding.

But, the puppy is brown like hot cocoa and warm and her heart beats steady against Viktor’s hand. She smells like bread baking in the oven and eventually she opens her eyes and she is so tiny and precious and he realizes just how much he needed to be watched with eyes like these, full of unconditional love.

“I love her” Viktor answers.

\----

 

Makkachin is clumsy and restless and _absolutely adorable_.

She is either asleep like a baby— she _is_ a baby, after all— or running around the house causing mischief, much to his _mama’s_ chagrin. She gnawed the legs of the kitchen chair and some innocent magazines laying around and destroyed a few pillows but Viktor is absolutely not letting his _mama_ throw her to the backyard, because it is cold and whenever she feels the wind on her fur, Makkachin looks at him and trembles and he wants to hug her forever.

So, Makkachin sleeps inside, under the condition that Viktor will be responsible for everything that she does.

Which means that during the first few months, his allowances are spent buying chewing toys, rubber balls, blankets, plush toys and replacing all of the pillows on their couch. Viktor researches some things about dog behavior and training and tries to train her, but the first time he tried to spray Makkachin with water she recoiled and looked so afraid that his heart broke and he decided to just let her be.

When she is old enough, his _mama_ gets her neutered. Some of the restlessness subsides, but she still has a mischievous air to her, always looking like she is calculating something with her big, brown eyes. Viktor thinks Makkachin knows just how cute she is and she must do everything on purpose, like laying on his feet and exposing her belly, asking for a rub, or jumping on his bed because she knows he won’t say no— he _can’t_ say no.

His _mama_ thinks he spoils Makkachin way too much, but since the dog is behaved enough to do her needs outside and to not ruin things that aren’t hers anymore, _mama_ forgives him. In fact, Viktor knows his _mama_ likes Makkachin very much so.

It saddens him, however, that as his career on the ice progresses, Viktor doesn’t really have the time to be with her so much. He goes to school and then goes to the ice rink to practice and only comes back home by night time, and all he can do is cuddle with her and play a little bit because Viktor is absolutely exhausted. It feels that his _mama_ is more of an owner to Makkachin than he is, but she insists that it’s alright and that his future is more important.

Besides, Makkachin doesn’t hate him for never being around.

The seasons get colder, snow falls down, and Viktor is now thirteen. Yakov, his coach, helps his family throw him a party. When asked if he doesn’t have any friends he would like to invite, Viktor looks at Makkachin and just answers “Makkachin is my friend.”

Yakov gives him a _look_ , but says nothing else. Viktor is not really lying— he never had neighbors that were closer to his age, his classmates at school are all stupid and his rink mates are nice to him but he just can’t relate to them. He always had trouble connecting to other people, and his dog feels more like a friend than any of his acquaintances. So, Viktor doesn’t invite anyone else, and spends the whole birthday holding Makkachin close to his chest.

\---

 

Viktor gets older, because getting older is inevitable.

He is sixteen years old and a world champion and everything feels new and exhilarating. He keeps staring at the gold medal in his hand as if it’s going to disappear at any moment, but it isn’t, because he won, he is a _champion_.

His _mama_ throws him a party and cries all the while; relatives he has never seen before hug and congratulate him, but Viktor believes that very few actually mean it and care about him as much as his _mama_ or his dog do. He ends up hiding from the visits in the backyard, nursing on a cup of mulled wine while the adults chat loudly inside.

Makkachin finds him very quickly and sits next to him, her head soon in his lap. She always seems to know when he is upset about something. Viktor scratches her head and wishes, not for the first time tonight, that the party was just him, his _mama_ , and his dog.

Viktor looks at his reflection in the window. His hair is very long now, his face is getting sharper; he is aware that he is becoming a person one could call “pretty”. He recalls going back to the locker rooms, going to congratulate that skater from France who was not much older than him, the one that looked like a Renaissance painting. They kissed, and it was Viktor’s first kiss, and he will not see that man again, and that is alright.

Very few things are eternal. His accomplishments, his _mama_ and Makkachin.

\---

 

Viktor is nineteen when he leaves his home.

His _mama_ is not as angry as he thought she would be, rather, she seems sad. _Mama_ says it’s okay for him to live with her as long as he wants, that this is his home as well, and that if Viktor ever feels lonely the door will always remain open for him. But, she doesn’t stop him, and when he asks her why, she says that if he has the means to live and support himself, then she will not deny him that.

So, Viktor buys a flat using his newfound fortune, and starts playing the game of being an adult.

At first, it is difficult. Viktor learns the hard way just how much work a person needs to do to keep a house clean and habitable, how much thought it is put on a grocery list so food won’t spoil in the fridge, how much organizing he needs to do so cleaning is an easier task. He only realizes how dependable he was of his _mama_ when she isn’t around anymore.

Granted, when his break ends, he is barely in the flat anymore. He goes to college because Viktor wants to keep on learning, but he is not sure if he will even finish it, because skating is time consuming when you are a world champion. He spends most of his day practicing and challenging Yakov’s orders, and when he is free, he poses for photoshoots and films perfumes commercials because the money is good and welcome.

Then he comes back to his flat and collapses on the bed.

Rinse, and repeat.

Yet, Viktor likes living alone, he discovers. He likes the silence of his empty rooms, the room it leaves for him to think, he likes thinking about everything and anything, about his skating programs, his days, his life. When it gets lonely, he turns the TV on or puts some music.

Admittedly, it is easier to like the solitude during the daylight. Viktor sleeps with the door locked and background music at its minimal so he won’t consume his own head with thoughts of burglars and the likes.

Viktor likes the autonomy that comes with living alone because he hates being dependent on others, but he also misses the human contact from time to time. He is always quick to remind himself that feeling overwhelmed by other people was what drove him to move away so young in the first place, but he is also weak for affection of any kind, so, it is hard.

One day, his _mama_ knocks at his door, holding Makkachin in one arm and a bag full of dog things on the other. _Mama_ promptly convinces Viktor that it is better if Makkachin stays with him, which he is unsure about because as much as Viktor misses Makkachin _so much_ , he doesn’t have the time to take care for her during the day, which is why he choose to leave her with his _mama_ in the first place.

But his _mama_ somehow can sense his loneliness from their phone calls only, and after much talking about how Makkachin is much more independent than she appears, and maybe some licks to his face and whines and huge, watery eyes, Viktor agrees to keep her.

At night, when the loud wind won’t let him sleep, Makkachin climbs on his bed and nuzzles on his feet, and Viktor feels so stupid for ever thinking he could ever live _completely_ alone.

\---

 

Viktor is twenty-one and he doesn’t have the time to let other people enter his life, _at all_.

Skating _is_ his life, but it’s also his work and he knows his fans have no idea just _how much_ he works. He leaves his home to jog with Makkachin at dawn, he takes her back and goes to train at seven in the morning and he only comes back at six in the afternoon. Viktor ended up hiring a housekeeper to leave the place tidy and feed his dog because otherwise he would drown in dust and poor Makkachin would just be bones by now.

Though, Makkachin never resents him, as guilty as Viktor feels. She still wags her tail frenetically and jumps him when he comes back, she still has so much affection to give him even if he is such an _awful_ owner. But, Yakov already said he _absolutely cannot_ bring a dog to the rink, so there’s nothing he can do but tearfully say goodbye to her every day.

And, all in all, it’s fine, because when Viktor feels lonely at night she is still always there for him.

Makkachin is his only friend because he absolutely can’t afford to let others approach him. His peers are either too bashful or too envy of him to try to befriend him, and Viktor is very thankful for that, because all that time others waste doing small talk, he spends actually training. He didn’t become the top skater of the world by _making friends_. Besides, people are messy and are always expecting things from him that he can’t give, and they are always _so loud_ and never let him think in peace.

That doesn’t mean that Viktor isn’t _friendly_ , but he does not pursue anybody else’s attention. He has his moments of weakness towards the warm flesh of another human being, but he set strict rules about that: Viktor never stays with the men after they are done, and he never does this at his own flat, because his flat is his home and he doesn’t want strangers entering his home.

 _Maybe_ , he thinks, _maybe_ one day he will let someone in. But whenever he tries to picture his future, all he sees is a home full of trophies and Makkachin still on his bed.

 

\---

 

Viktor is twenty-six and he is exhausted of winning.

He can’t recall if there was ever a time in his life when he actually lost anything at all. All his memories are of shining gold and the highest place at the podium, ever since he can remember. Except, here is the thing: when you are so good at something that it is not a challenge anymore, it is just… _Boring?_ And Viktor absolutely knows how arrogant he is about this, how many of his fellow competitors would die for a chance of having so many wins as he has, but that is irrelevant— it is all pointless if he can’t find any difficult and any place to improve anymore, if Viktor can’t find any _passion_ or _happiness_ in what he does any longer.

To many, that would mean that Viktor has reached perfection. For him, it means that he is stuck at a dead end.

He started to storage his medals and trophies at his _mama’s_ house. Viktor is sure she can find better use for them, for him only feels worse every time he has to look.

He stands at the podium, kissing his god-knows-what-number gold medal for the camera, and wondering when it stopped being an anchor and became an anvil.

Yakov forces him to go to the Grand Prix banquet, because he is the champion and it would be _such_ a slight not to go. So, Viktor puts on a designer suit, rehearses his perfect smile, and gets ready to do small talk all the while his mind is elsewhere for hours.

That is the plan at first.

When Yuuri Katsuki, that Japanese skater that clearly admires him judging by the way he skates, and yet performed poorly during the Final, takes off his jacket and drunkenly yells at Yuri Plisetsky, daring him to a _dance match_ , Viktor wills his mind to come back from wherever it was, because _this_ will be interesting.

\---

 

Viktor is twenty-seven, and absolutely _heartbroken_ for the first time ever in his life.

He never fell for anyone before, but he is sure that whatever happened at the banquet was that he fell madly in love with the boy called Yuuri Katsuki. And at first, he tries to let it go, in the hopes that he could meet him properly next year at competitions. And Viktor is a bit angry with Yuuri, really, Yuuri with those shiny brown eyes and infectious laughter, Yuuri who danced with him as if he was just another man and not a world champion, Yuuri _who didn’t even give him a phone number_.

He didn’t even give Viktor a phone number, so Viktor does what a petty person like him would do and stalks the man in social media. And, surprisingly, this Yuuri is actually a very private person—his Instagram and Twitter are barely used, mostly for official updates on his career. He doesn’t have a fanpage on Facebook, only a private account that it’s purely in Japanese so it’s probably for his family only.

And still, Viktor considers messaging him. He considers doing this a lot of times, and rehearses opening the inbox in Facebook, the direct messages of his Twitter, but for reasons even him can’t understand, he never does. Maybe it’s the fact that Yuuri himself never tried to talk to him and actually _rejected_ a photography with Viktor even though it is obvious he is a fan. Yuuri must be something, for making him experience feelings he never felt before such as _hesitation_.

So, even if his heart aches, he tries to let it go, and whatever happens, happens.

And what happens is a viral video of Yuuri skating to his performance of Stay Close to Me.

And to say it’s just a video of skating is an understatement, because Yuuri is _living_ the number, the emotion running through his veins and it takes two replays of the video for Viktor to realize that he is skating with no music at the background, at all. He is actually, for the first time, _jealous_ , because this man, who failed at the Grand Pix, who _pole-danced_ with Chris in the banquet, looks so shy and ethereal and _great_. Why was his number at the championship so bad, then? He plays the video once again, hoping he can figure Yuuri Katsuki out.

It takes ten replays of the video for Viktor to buy plane tickets to Japan.

\---

 

And it turns out Yuuri is the exact opposite of what Viktor was expecting.

He acts so cold and distant at first, rejecting his advances and touches, that Viktor wonders if Yuuri regrets the banquet night and doesn’t feel anything for him, at all, other than contempt.  Or, _well_ , maybe not contempt, but it could as well be considering this is the same man than dragged him to a dance while drunk.

A drunk Yuuri is vivacious and shameless and even seductive, while a sober Yuuri is very much an introverted boy who hides behind his glasses so he won’t make eye contact with people, and doesn’t like being touched. In fact, he doesn’t seem to like people _in general_. Viktor must admit that they _do_ have something in common—it’s just their methods that are different, because while Yuuri runs away, Viktor composes a fake smile and shallow conversation.

So, at first Viktor thinks Yuuri hates him. Yuuri must hate him, and Viktor hugs Makkachin tight to his chest and cries silently while listening to the saddest playlist he could assemble. His dog is so lucky, because that boy seems to actually like her very much so; he is a bit jealous of all the affection she keeps receiving.

It is only when Viktor tentatively sheds Yuuri’s layers—and granted, that happens after two days—that he realizes that Yuuri doesn’t quite hate him. Yuuri actually _likes him a lot_ and that is _even worse_ because Viktor can’t understand how this man and the drunk man are the same person. If he actually likes him so much, why does he also rejects Viktor?

Viktor, however, must admit that he was wrong when he said he fell in love at the banquet, because he didn’t love the actual Yuuri; he was infatuated for an anomaly, a rare occurrence that was probably not coming back. The actual Yuuri is shy and reserved but also very kind and passionate about what he does and loves, even if he lacks enough self-esteem to recognize his own worth. And that actually makes Viktor _so_ sad, that this beautiful, amazing boy can’t see himself like others see him.

Yuuri can’t see how _Viktor_ looks at him, and that only makes him fall in love a bit more, as if he needed to love better to compensate.

At the end of his first two weeks in Hasetsu, Viktor cuddles with Makkachin and confides her his plan of blooming self-worth out of Yuuri. And maybe _something_ else, as well.

\---

 

Viktor is twenty-nine and Makkachin’s face is all white now, and the skin beneath her eyes folds like wrinkles. She is an old lady, and Viktor is aware that seventeen is very old for a big dog, but he bats away those thoughts because she still looks at him like she did the first time.

She sleeps all day long, except for when Yuuri and him walk her around, but even then, she still can’t run the same distances as before. A long walk to the beach becomes a walk across their block, but it’s alright. Makkachin still snuggles with them on their couch, still asks for belly rubs and still steals food that is not meant for her.

Her health is analogous to a human old lady, Viktor thinks. During the last couple of years, they started spending a lot on medications for her failing heart, her hurting joints and some vitamins to keep her sharp. Sometimes she feels pain on her back and they take her to an animal acupuncturist— _what a concept_ — and she gets better. Makkachin has gotten a bit deaf and blind too, the sound of a package ripping now going completely unnoticed, but she is lucid and Viktor thanks the heavens for that, mostly because he once read about dog dementia and got really afraid.

She is grumpier, however. She developed the habit of grumbling around when things don’t go her way, but it is _so cute_. Makkachin’s eyes now hold the patience and wisdom of an elder, and somehow Viktor knows she knows that she is old, judging by the way she looks at young puppies with the absolute exasperation of a grandma.

Puppies, he comments with Yuuri one day, are adorable because they are babies and babies are made to be adorable so they can survive while adults care for them. But, there is something about old dogs that aches his heart because they hold so much experience— Makkachin never looked so human as she looks now. Her eyes are _knowing_ of everything.

Either way, Viktor is twenty-nine and on his way to get married.

He keeps staring at his face in the mirror, at his white and silver tuxedo that costed a delightful amount of money, and he still can’t believe that he is _getting married today_. They are at a beach in the coast of France and Yuuri is waiting for him and in less than twenty minutes they will be husband and husband.

Viktor can only do so much so he will not explode from happiness right there, right now. If only his teenage self knew how bright his future looked now…

“Viktor, let’s go” Chris, who he chose to be his best man, calls him at the door.

Viktor turns around to leave with him, and he knows he can’t will his smile down.

“Oh, my, _what_ is it?” Chris asks him, faking annoyance.

“Nothing. It’s just… I’m getting _married_ , Chris! Today, and with _Yuuri_! Can you believe that?”

“I can believe that, in fact I don’t think it’s very surprising for anyone here today that you are getting married.”

“I’m just… I’m so _happy_ , Chris. I… Didn’t really think this could ever happen to me.”

Chris, even having to witness Viktor’s mood swings all day, smiles at him. “Well, but it is happening, so you should be very happy indeed.”

Viktor leaves the house and his _mama_ waits for him to take him to the altar. Her eyes look suspiciously shiny. The music begins and they march towards Yuuri, who also waits for him next to his family and his best man, Phichit.

When they reach the spot and his _mama_ lets him go, Viktor finally takes a good look at Yuuri, at his groom, at his _future husband_ —he looks absolutely stunning in the suit Viktor had tailored just for him, a dark charcoal shade which compliments his skin and his eyes. Yuuri looks breathtaking, but he also remains bashful, his cheeks dusted pink and his eyes shiny just like his _mama’s_. And yet, unlike the Yuuri he first met, this one doesn’t avert his gaze.

By their side, Makkachin bumps at their legs, carrying their rings in a basket around her neck.

 

\---

Viktor is still twenty-nine when, one day, Makkachin stops eating.

This is usually not a good sign because she stops eating when she is in pain, so they take her to the vet and she is admitted. The blood samples are inconclusive, she is being fed via an IV, and the doctor says they will need an X-Ray to speculate more.

It could be just a stomach infection, and Viktor holds to the doctor’s words for his dear life because he never thought this day would really come. After she scared him by almost choking a couple of years ago, he forgot about the cruel reality that Makkachin would die one day, and he is _not_ ready. So, Viktor prays, even if he isn’t a religious man, for it to be just an infection and for her to get back home soon, but Yuuri looks at him so sadly that it’s really hard to believe it.

Yuuri knows what it feels like to bury a pet, but Viktor doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t even know what it feels to bury a _relative_ — his grandfather died when he was a toddler and all funerals he went were of people he wasn’t very close with.

The next day, he knows by the doctor’s face that the X-Ray doesn’t bring any good news. She circles with her fingers an area that looks like a cauliflower and talks about the possibility that this is a tumor. Tears stream down Viktor’s face immediately, Yuuri holding his hand and trying not to cry as well. They ask what they can do, and she says that at Makkachin’s age, there isn’t much option for treatment other than opening her and trying to get the tumor out, and praying for it not to grow back.

But, she assures them that the dog is so anaesthetized she can’t feel any pain.

Makkachin, the doctor also warns, may not wake up from the surgery, because of her advanced age. Viktor authorizes the operation anyway and cries in his husband’s chest the whole night. By then, he is already resigned that she is not coming back home this time.

They barely eat the next day, waiting for news from the veterinary. When the phone rings, Viktor runs to answer as fast as he can.

He hears the doctor say “lymphoma”, and the rest becomes white noise. Something about it spreading through her spine. Viktor takes a deep, stuttering breath and tells the doctor to just let her rest.

Yuuri cries besides him, and Viktor himself is practically _convulsing_. He is sure he never cried so much like this, over anyone, he mutters a chanting of “it’s not fair” while Yuuri hugs him tight and explains that is never fair. Viktor wonders if he would have ever been ready for this day, but Yuuri answers him that no one is, and that it’s okay, that Makkachin lived like a queen and that’s all it matters.

Viktor sleeps a dreamless night, barely.

\----

Grief, Viktor discovers, is weirder than it sounds.

The hardest thing to do the morning after they receive the dreadful news that it was her time to go was to storage her things. They wrap every toy in her blankets and put it in a bag, and place it inside the closet. Viktor can’t even _think_ of throwing her things away, and Yuuri says they shouldn’t, especially because in the future they might want another dog.

Mentions of “another dog” make him sick, however, because it feels like some betrayal towards her memory.

His _mama_ laments with him over the phone. She wasn’t much around Makkachin’s final years, but regardless of any hard feelings towards fancy carpets being ruined, she loved her, like everyone else did. Absolutely everybody loved her so much, because, how couldn’t you?

His day is taken over with countless messages of support from Yakov, Yuri, his other colleagues, his family, and many, many fans around the world. They mean well, but Viktor feels empty, because pretty words and condolences won’t bring her back.

Nothing will bring her back.

Grief, he discovers, is not an endless cry of sadness and despair, rather than a myriad of confused emotions. Mostly, he feels depressed for losing pretty much his only childhood friend. Sometimes, Viktor thinks about all the bad people still alive and well and gets _so_ angry about the fact that Makkachin, the most innocent of the innocents, died, while so many rotten people still breathe. Sometimes, he will remember something she did on some occasion and he will get so happy, only to get so sad again.

“It feels as if my own _mama_ died” he comments dully a couple days later, to Yuuri “I realize that what I felt for her was the same I felt for a human. She was a person to me.”

“She was a person” Yuuri smiles “a canine person, but a person nonetheless. I know for sure that she was more human than many people we know.”

Viktor agrees, and laughs, and then cries, and they spend the night telling stories about Viktor’s youth and her. They cry and laugh so much, arms wrapped around each other and golden rings sparkling as the only comfort available.

They go to the animal crematorium on the next morning. The man who deals with the process is very careful and attentive. He makes Viktor look at her dead body so to confirm it really is Makkachin and at first, it’s too much and he chokes on a cry, but then he notices her tongue is poking out and realizes she just looks _asleep_.

She died sleeping, with no pain, no blood, just her and her puppy dreams and suddenly it becomes a bit more okay. Viktor thinks of touching her fur one last time but decides that this act would just destroy him more, so they wait.

They wait in a room with a comfortable chair, they look at urns for pets and discover they have tiny statues specific for each breed. They hang around a bit in the pet cemetery and Yuuri comments that he usually hates going to cemeteries because the atmosphere always feels charged, but this, here, is actually really _peaceful_. Viktor translates the names in the tombstones for Yuuri and they laugh lightheartedly at some of them.

When it’s over, the man hands Viktor a box with two little bags full of ashes. Viktor thanks him and wishes him a good day, and truly means it.

On their way home, Viktor looks silently at the urn and thinks about how big Makkachin was and how this was all that is left of her. His brain can’t really register that it’s her, that this is _his Makkachin_.

That afternoon, they go to the beach and spread her ashes to the sea.

 _‘It’s a closure’_ , Viktor thinks.

\---

 

Muscle memory is a treacherous little thing, so the first months are really difficult.

Viktor still hears her bark when he gets home. There are moments when he feels her running around the flat, when he can still smell her scent, when he swears he will wake up with a lump of heavy fur on his feet.

But, there is nothing. There is Viktor, Yuuri, and an empty space.

Thoughts of “another dog” are dreadful at first. Every single dog reminds him of Makkachin, there are days when Viktor can’t look at a puppy without wanting to cry his heart out. Makkachin left such an enormous hole in his chest—suffering a lesion and having to retire early would have hurt _way less_ , probably, even if Yuuri tries to convince him that it wouldn’t. In fact, Viktor is not sure if he can ever go through this again.

He loves dogs. He always did, so much more than he loves humans, and there are few feelings better than the love of a dog for you. But, the price they must pay for being the purest creatures on Earth is that they live so little; they could get another dog and it would be a decade or something of pure happiness and then the dog would die and he would get another piece of his heart gnawed out.

He says this aloud to Yuuri, one day. Yuuri just shrugs and answers “Well, everyone is going to die one day.”

And sure, it is as obvious as saying that the water is wet, so at first Viktor doesn’t understand. It is only when he watches one of the junior skaters at the ice rink having to go through the awful experience of losing a friend at a very young age that Viktor realizes what Yuuri _truly_ meant.

So, he still doesn’t get a dog but he stops martyring himself over his grief. After all, Makkachin wouldn’t want him to be sad because of her.

The year passes, he gets older once again.

Viktor is thirty and Yuuri speaks about this cute little dog he saw on a shelter, and Viktor smiles.

 

 

_"But I did okay, didn't I? I mean I got, what, fifteen thousand years. That's pretty good, isn't it? I lived a pretty long time."_

_"You lived what anybody gets, Bernie. You got a lifetime. No more. No less."_

**Bernie Capax and Death of the Endless, in Sandman: Brief Lives issue 43.**

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SORRY FOR KILLING MAKKACHIN but this was mostly a vent fic that I wrote when the anniversary of the death of my childhood dog came and the grief came back all over again
> 
> a lot of it, and pretty much everything from when she dies to the end, were my own experiences with my dog 
> 
> guess I don't have much to say other than: a) dogs are gifts and We Don't Deserve Them and b) English is not my native language so I apologize for any mistakes
> 
> tumblr @ what-she-came-for


End file.
